


we've been here before

by mollyelle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cabin Fic, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hiatus, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19846210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollyelle/pseuds/mollyelle
Summary: The second he hears the news, Harry Styles is on a plane to London.He doesn’t even know if Louis will want to speak to him, see him, even be pleased that they’re in the same country, but he has to try.-------Harry goes to Louis in the wake of his sister Felicite's death, and Louis asks Harry to help him clean up a family cabin he is ready to get rid of.  Along the way, they attempt to heal many things, even those that they thought were long past.





	we've been here before

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Sign of the Times"; all story content is fictional. I tried to put myself in Louis' shoes in this one because I've lost someone close to me too. All kudos and comments are so appreciated <3

The second he hears the news, Harry Styles is on a plane to London.

He doesn’t even know if Louis will want to speak to him, see him, even be pleased that they’re in the same country, but he has to try.

That’s what 16 year old Harry Styles, the baker from Holmes Chapel, would’ve done and that’s what 25 year old Harry Styles is doing now.

He needs to find that boy again. And he figures helping the best part of 16 year old Harry’s life will be a start.

Gemma picks him up and they stay relatively unnoticed, only a fan or two stops him for a quick autograph. They can sense he’s in a hurry so they don’t ask for a picture, and under any other circumstance, he would offer, but he’s in a rush.

One says, “If you see Louis, tell him we’re thinking about him” and he smiles and nods quickly.

“Have you really thought this through?” she asks on their drive over, “you’re not kids anymore, H.”

“You don’t think he wants to see me?”

“I think he’s got a lot more to think about right now than what went wrong with you.” She knows it’s harsh, but she knows Louis is hurting, she doesn’t want Harry to get hurt too.

“I just think in the middle of losing something he never thought he’d lose, it might help to gain something back he never thought he’d have again.”

They’re both quieted by the sadness of the reason they’re driving over.

When they’re almost there, Gemma speaks again, “I did call Lottie and let her know we were coming. I think they’ve dealt with more than enough surprises lately.”

“If you don’t want me to go...” he starts to argue, but then she interrupts.

“Just be careful. With his heart and with yours.”

They pull up to the house, where surprisingly no reporters or paparazzi are camped out, and for the first time since he got on the plane, Harry is nervous. It’s been so long since he’s done something like this, just for Louis, just to show him he cares.

What if he’s not welcome here?

Gemma knocks at the door and before he has any more time to think Lottie is there, giving Gemma a strong hug and then turning to him.

“Hiya Hazza. Long time no see.”

He breathes a sigh of relief that she doesn’t seem angry or resentful. In fact, she almost seems excited that he’s here, despite the circumstances.

They have moved into the foyer and are standing there when a voice comes from upstairs.

“Hey Lot, have you seen...”

Harry swears time freezes as he looks up at Louis and their eyes lock. He prays with all his strength that Louis won’t be angry, won’t kick him out before he’s even had a chance to say hello.

Louis looks surprised, but also deflated and tired.

“Harry.”

Not Hazza. Not H. Harry.

He greets him like a stranger and at this point, maybe they are. But that doesn’t stop Harry from lurching forward and giving Louis the biggest hug. It is clear that Louis is stunned, but after a moment he relaxes into it, even squeezing back slightly.

When they pull apart, Harry feels 17 and he just wants to put the pieces of Louis’ broken heart back together again.

“Lou, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he responds noncommittally, and Harry knows immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Of course that’s what everyone has been saying to the Tomlinsons. He’s supposed to be different.

“I just came because...well, I...”

_Not a strong start, Styles_ , he thinks, still fumbling over his words, before realizing he’s outwardly groaned, and Louis, Lottie, and Gemma are all staring at him like he’s grown another head.

Lottie clears her throat, eyes darting off to the side, “Tea, Harry? Gems?”

“Tea would be brilliant,” Gemma says quickly, and then whips her head to mouth “what the fuck” at Harry before they’re all heading down to the kitchen.

He shrugs and looks panicked, but follows behind. They sit and Lottie brings them their tea and they all try to act like this is something normal for them to do.

And it would be, in any other circumstance, without the history.

Gemma and Lottie do most of the talking, trying their best to fill the space as Harry and Louis compete to see who can burn a hole in the table with their gaze first.

The silence is a step away from lasting a beat too long when suddenly Gemma’s car alarm starts ringing. The four of them look at each other and make their way to the front window.

Sure enough, paparazzi are swarming, one of them clearly smart enough to realize Gemma’s car.

“Fucking scavengers,” Louis spits out angrily.

“Shit I’m so sorry, Gemma,” Lottie says woefully, “Hopefully they’re just thinking it’s you coming to see me. I don’t want you guys to have to deal with...”

She trails off quietly as she looks between Harry and Louis. Not a single one of them is making eye contact. 

“I’ll head out,” Gemma says with a sad smile, “And H, you can grab a cab after I lure them away?”

He nods, “Sure. I’m sorry that we couldn’t stay for longer.”

Louis’ eyes are still downcast so Lottie offers, “Thank you both, so much for coming. It really means a lot.”

They all walk toward the front door where Gemma hugs Lottie and Louis goodbye and then she is gone. From inside the house, the three of them watch as she drives away and a few cars follow her. After a few moments, the area appears to be quiet, and an unassuming black car pulls up for Harry. He turns back to both Lottie and Louis and speaks again.

“I know it’s taken me too long to come here, but if you need anything,” he turns his gaze directly to Louis who still cannot meet his eyes, “please promise you’ll let me know.”

Lottie smiles a tired yet genuine smile, “We will, Harry. It was really good to see you.”

He reaches for the doorknob when he hears, “Thank you” come quietly from Louis’ mouth. He can’t help but smile and turn back, where he is finally able to meet Louis’ gaze.

“Of course.”

And then he’s gone. He gets to the car without incident and heads home. But he does afford himself one look back at the house and when he turns his head, the curtains are closed and no one is watching him go.

…

All day afterwards, Harry can’t shake the feeling that he’s meant to be somewhere else. He paces his apartment, tries to write a couple songs, watches a few mind numbing teen dramas, but all he can feel is that something is pulling him out the door.

So he drives.

It’s later in the evening, he takes back roads, trying to make it less likely that he’ll be spotted. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he feels his heart pulling him.

Of course he’s thinking about seeing Louis again. So many things have happened between the two of them over the years, and the past few years in particular have been tough. He remembers the time they were inseparable, sometimes feeling like they were sharing one body, one heart, one soul.

Maybe this afternoon jogged those feelings. Maybe that’s how he ended up here, back at Louis’ door.

He parks across the street for a moment and just stares. He can see a light on in an upstairs window and a silhouette moving around in the room. He stares up at the window, and it’s like his heart and his head are on 2 different wavelengths. His head knows talking to Louis again might mess everything up again, maybe this time for good. But in the end, his heart leads him to press the name on his phone before he can change his mind. 

He lets it ring once and thinks “I could hang up, claim it was a butt dial.”

It rings twice, three times. Maybe it’s Louis who doesn’t want to talk to him.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Harry?”

His heart sinks. Still Harry.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble for you.”

He can hear Louis sigh on the other end of the phone, tired and stressed, “You didn’t. It was actually really nice to see you.”

“Yeah?” Harry perks up and he knows Louis can hear the hope in his voice.

“Eh, don’t go getting a big head about it there, Holmes Chapel,” he says and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. He’s so relieved, he knows Louis has been suffering. He curls up against his driver’s seat, looking up at the window with the light on.

They sit in silence for minutes, Harry knows he should speak but he’s enjoying this, just being here with Louis, not feeling awkward or angry or unsure. He feels calm, his eyes falling slightly closed when Louis speaks again.

“You ever just want to run away? Forget all of this?”

“There’s a lot I’d like to forget,” Harry’s voice is deep and a bit slurred; he’s tired but this is the longest Louis has let him talk in a long time, so he figures he might as well be honest. He looks up to the window, where the light is now off.

“Hopefully not all of it,” Louis says quietly. Harry pictures him lying on his bed, phone curled against his ear. It’s a hope and a memory all at once.

“No, not all of it.”

And then silence again. Until there’s a banging on the window behind him and Harry thinks he might be dead.

He screams and looks over to see none other than Louis Tomlinson, bag slung over his shoulder. Harry rolls down his window and Louis smirks, hanging up his phone.

“You stalkin me, mate?”

“I...no, I swear I was gonna tell you I was here,” Harry is still trying to catch his breath as Louis opens the door and hops in beside him, throwing his bag into the backseat.

“You up for an adventure, Styles?”

Harry can’t help it, he’s beaming. Louis hasn’t looked at him like this in years, like it’s just the two of them getting into trouble without a care in the world.

“‘Course, what did you have in mind?”

“You got a few days?” He asks tentatively, knowing how quickly Harry’s schedule can fill up. Harry does look a little concerned, but he simply asks, “Sure, do I need to go get some clothes?”

Louis shakes his head, pulling the seatbelt across his body and buckling in, “Just drive.”  
…

They drive through the night, only speaking when Louis tells Harry to turn and Harry acknowledges his directions. He doesn’t know where they’re going but after years of feeling like they’re going nowhere or backwards, he’s happy for these moments.

They drive for close to half an hour when Louis instructs him to turn into what appears to be a forest.

“Listen, I know we’ve been through a lot, but there’s gotta be a better way to work through this than murdering me in the woods.”

Louis laughs again, like he’s exhaling so much pain, and Harry almost swears in that moment to quit singing and become a full time comedian.

“Just keep driving, the lights will guide you down the path.”

Harry hums, “Lights will guide you home” and Louis eyes flutter shut almost on instinct. He keeps driving a little longer until he comes upon a gate with a keypad. He nudges Louis lightly and without opening his eyes, he mutters, “2194.”

Harry feels his breath catch, looks back at Louis, whose eyes are still closed, then turns back to the keypad and punches in the numbers.

The small gate opens quietly and closes behind them once they’ve pulled in. In front of them is a small cabin Harry has never seen before, but it looks quiet and secluded.

“When Mum saw what was happening to me and then Lottie, how people were following us around, always wanting to know what was going on with us, she wanted us to have a place to escape. She rented this place a while ago and I come here sometimes to just...get away. But I figured now, I don’t know, I guess it’s just not necessary anymore.”

Louis looks so sad, his eyes downcast and Harry isn’t sure what to do or say. Luckily he doesn’t have to think for too long because Louis speaks again.

“I just thought maybe you could help me clear it all out and move on, and maybe we could, you know...do the same.”

“Move on.” Harry doesn’t even realize he’s said the words aloud, and he’s not sure how he feels about it. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, seeing you today, it just made me realize that we clearly have some unfinished business,” Louis admits, “So maybe we should just...you know, finish it.”

Harry isn’t sure what he wants to say but he knows that he’s felt so good helping Louis today, and the last thing he wants to do is fight.

So he agrees.

“Okay sure, I’ll help.”

They both get out of the car, Louis grabbing his bag and walking up to the front door. He bends down, grabbing a rock and pulling off the key on the underside. He unlocks the door and lets them inside, flipping on the foyer lights and Harry looks around, taking in this place he never knew existed.

“Wait, so how long have you had this place?”

“Um since Midnight Memories?” Louis says with a shrug as he shuts the door and moves inside. Harry feels his heart sink.

“So is this where you would go when...?”

Harry remembers nights when Louis would just disappear, when the bed would stay cold for days.

He tries to forget them, but he can’t.

Louis stops for a moment, nodding slowly, and then clears his throat, “Yeah, so I can give you a tour if you want.”

Harry nods, following Louis through the large living room where there is a huge couch with two chaise lounges that he could definitely see himself sinking into, a kitchen with a giant island with marble countertops and two ovens that make his baker’s mind whir, and finally they ascend the staircase where a lofted bedroom sits, overlooking everything below.

“I know it’s small, but it was really meant for just one person. Sometimes two.”

They’re standing side by side, leaning over the balcony looking at everything below.

“Why didn’t you ever use it for two?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to look heartbroken and sad, and Louis’ turn to sigh.

“I guess, near the end, I stopped wanting to be alone with you.”

Harry knows he should feel grateful for Louis’ honestly after all this time, but the remark still hurts. To Louis’ credit, he tries to move on from it.

“Listen, maybe we should get some sleep and start over in the morning.”

Harry stares in his direction, but Louis seems quite preoccupied with picking at the wood on the banister. So Harry shrugs, not wanting to start a fight after everything and looks around. The bed is large, he thinks definitely a King, but he and Louis in the same bed?

He both actively craves the idea and wants to do everything in his power to stop it from happening.

“Okay, I’ll sleep on the couch. Blankets?”

Louis nods, walking over to the closet in the bedroom and pulling out a large quilt to hand to Harry. Once the other boy takes the blanket, he reaches down into the bag he brought with them and pulls out a pair of sweatpants that look far too long to be his.

“I...um, still had these...from before.”

Harry reaches out to take them and for the briefest of moments their hands touch. He wants to grab hold, pull Louis close to him, kiss like they used to.

Louis drops his hand and the pants fall into Harry’s grip.

“Hopefully I haven’t put on too many pounds since I wore these last,” he says with a smile, patting his stomach dramatically.

Louis rolls his eyes, but laughs lightly, “Well, good night then.”

Harry smiles one last time before heading down the stairs.

“Good night, Lou.”

He doesn’t turn back to see Louis hopping into bed, just quietly descends the staircase until he gets back to the living room. There are a few pillows on the couch, so he quickly changes into the sweatpants and sinks down into the sofa in the darkness.

Normally, he sleeps shirtless, but he hesitates before taking his shirt off and ultimately decides to leave it on. He’s nervous, feels like the last person at a slumber party to fall asleep and the terror of this whole situation finally dawns on him.

What have they gotten themselves into?

He looks over at his phone: 2:30 am. A million questions are racing through his head: Why did Louis bring him here after all this time? Why didn’t he ever tell him about it before?

Does anyone else know?

He can only think of one other person he might’ve taken here when things got bad. And Harry knows he’ll be awake, so before he can think it through, he texts him.

_**Can I ask you a question?** _

His instincts were right, the response comes almost instantly.

_**Is this really who this is?** _

That’s a fair thing to say, Harry can’t remember the last time they spoke.

_**Yes** _

_**Are you fucking kidnapped or something?** _

Jesus, he doesn’t want to talk about how weird this is, he just needs an answer.

_**Did Louis ever tell you about this place, it’s like a cabin his mum bought for when he or Lottie or anyone needed to escape the paparazzi or the stress or whatever** _

He feels so stupid, he wishes he could take this whole conversation back. Zayn isn’t pleasantly surprised to hear from him, he’s annoyed that Harry texted him out of the blue in the middle of the night to ask a question about Louis.

_**This is so childish, are you guys back together?** _

Harry throws his head back against the pillow in frustration. He doesn’t want to talk about the past, whatever it was or looked like from the outside.

_**He just said that this place could be meant for 2, so I thought maybe he brought you here. You guys had a like broody fuck it all bond for a while there** _

There is a long pause and he thinks maybe he’s pissed Zayn off to the point of no return. Harry listens to the ticking of the clock in the silence until suddenly, the light from his phone screen illuminates the room.

_**H, I think you’ll find that there will always be things Louis only has meant for you. So, no, he didn’t take me there. And I’m willing to bet money that the only person who was ever supposed to be there with him is you** _

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, isn’t sure there’s a response that makes sense. So he leaves it without another word and places his phone next to him with the screen down.

He can’t think about this anymore tonight. Not when his thoughts are going places they haven’t gone in years.  
…

In the morning, it’s the beaming bright sunshine that wakes Harry up and for a moment, he feels like the night before could have been a dream. He turns his phone right side up and looks at the time. Then he swipes over to his texts and sure enough, at the top of the list, is Zayn Malik.

So none of it was a dream. And all of it has to be dealt with now.

He sits up, taking in his surroundings and the first thing he lays his eye on is the coffee pot, still steaming and a plain blue mug next to it. So he gets up, leaving the blankets and his phone behind and pours his cup quietly. When he looks up, he can see outside onto the patio. And suddenly everything stops.

Louis is stretched out, his feet up on the chair across from him and Harry feels a pang in his heart. He wanted to be that boy so many years ago, the boy that Louis shared everything with, but now they share nothing.

Except this moment. And Harry is going to take full advantage of that.

He takes his cup with him, sliding the door open and Louis looks over, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Mornin’,” he offers, raising his mug to Harry’s. Harry can see the contents of his mug are lighter than Harry’s, which can only mean one thing. Louis has tea. He made the coffee just for Harry.

“Thank you for this,” he says, sitting across from Louis, “it’s just the way I like it.”

“I know,” Louis says quietly, and there’s that static in the air again, the feeling neither of them know what to do with.

Harry takes an exaggerated sip of his coffee, slurping loudly and Louis laughs. He laughs back, feeling lighter than he has with Louis in a long time.

“So what needs done out here?”

Louis sighs, his brow furrowing, “Just needs a good cleaning, really. They’re coming to appraise it on Friday and then hopefully it’ll go on the market shortly after that. There’s a couple closets filled with a bunch of rubbish that we should probably just toss.”

“Sure, ready to get my hands dirty,” Harry says eagerly and they finish their drinks in silence, but it’s comfortable. Once they head inside, Louis opens a couple of cabinets before finding what he’s looking for: a box of protein bars. He throws one to Harry, “Sorry, still a shit cook.”

“Weren’t always,” Harry responds, catching the bar and taking a bite. His gaze lingers on Louis, trying to pull him into the nostalgia. But if the statement jogs a memory, he doesn’t let Harry know.

“All right, well, let’s get started.”  
…

Things start off easy enough, they put on some music and sweep the floors, dust the bookshelves, move the furniture around. There’s nothing in the common areas that makes either of them think of old times; if Louis hadn’t brought him here, Harry wouldn’t even know the house belonged to him or his family.

The atmosphere is amicable, Harry occasionally glances up to see Louis lost in thought and his heart stops involuntarily.

Louis lets Harry pick the music, even though he hates most of his choices, and Harry cooks lunch for them. Of course, the house doesn’t have much, so it ends up just being two cans of soup, but he’s able to doctor it up with some dried bacon bits and spices from the cabinet.

They sit around the kitchen island and Louis slurps satisfactorily, earning a small laugh from Harry.

“Masterful work here, Harold.”

_Harold._ Harry is pleased, they’re venturing into nickname territory.

“Yeah, well, I was always the cook in the relationship,” he says cautiously. The caution is warranted, Louis looks down at his soup and just mumbles, “Yeah, guess so.”

Harry isn’t sure if he’s feeling brave or if he just can’t ignore the pang in his heart any longer.

“You know, you don’t have to act like it didn’t happen.”

Louis groans, “Harry, stop it, we were just kids. It doesn’t have to be this big thing you’ve built up in your head.”

Harry feels like this might be what it’s like to be stabbed, the pain in his heart is so deep and throbbing. 

“We were in love, Louis, and it’s okay for you to admit that,” he says bitterly, “It isn’t going to come back up from the past and bite you.”

It’s Louis’ turn to be angry now, “What good does it do to admit that? It doesn’t change anything! We can’t go back, and we can’t go forward like this.”

“Why not? Don’t you ever think about trying again?”

“Fuck off,” Louis says and Harry steps back, caught off guard. But Louis is so angry.

“You could come out, Harry, and the whole world would love you. You wave your pride flag and wear whatever the fuck you want, and they’re so proud. But with me? I would be a joke. All I would hear would be ‘Oi, I knew it.’.”

Suddenly, it’s Harry’s turn to be angry, “I don’t know what you fucking think, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows on this side of things. But what we had, Lou, if we could get that back, I’d be willing to risk everything…”

“I can’t risk anything else!” Louis shouts and the silence is deafening.

“I’ve lost _so_ much already. I lost my mum, I lost my sister, I lost you because people wouldn’t let us just figure out our shit. We didn’t even know if we wanted to be together, and you didn’t do anything to calm everyone saying we should be so I could fucking think for two seconds. So instead I told everybody to back the fuck off, and they hated me for it and loved you. So, you might be able to risk losing fans, but everybody’s already fucking left me.”

The tears are welling up in Louis’ eyes and Harry is still angry, but he feels his resolve weakening. He reaches over to touch Louis’ forearm, which is resting on the kitchen counter when Louis snatches it away, wiping furiously at his tears.

“No, fuck you, Harry. I came here to get rid off all the shit that is weighing me down and that includes you. I told you I was here to move on, I can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t mean that,” Harry says quietly.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, and that works great for you, but I’m a realist. This would never, ever work, even if I wanted it to.”

He says the last part so quietly Harry almost doesn’t hear it. But he does and he responds softly, “Do you want it to?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Louis,” Harry is scolding, firm. He’s tired of the walls being put up between them, he’s going to break them down even if it kills them both.

“Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” Louis finally snaps, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you, Harry. I’ve wanted you when we weren’t speaking, I will _always_ want you.”

The admission sits heavy in the air, both of them staring, neither knowing what to do about any of this.

Louis wipes at the tears that have started to form at the corner of his eyes and moves past Harry, mumbling, “Gonna go get some groceries.”

And just like that, Louis has his keys and his phone, and he’s gone. And Harry is still standing shell shocked in the kitchen.  
…

After Louis leaves, Harry goes around the cabin, straightening up rooms they’ve already cleaned, fluffing pillows on the couch, anything to distract him from their fight.

But he can’t stop the thoughts running through his head: Louis still wants him. After all this time, he might even still be in love.

But then why have things been so hard? Why is everything radio silence between them?

No, Harry knows he didn’t do much to stop the rumors, but the rumors were true. And when everyone in their lives was telling them to lie, it felt good to have people out there who knew the truth. Even if they didn’t actually know it.

He’s aimlessly wandering, not sure what he’s going to do when Louis comes back, when he comes upon a small closet, close to the front door. He opens it cautiously, hoping to find some coats in disarray or something, anything to distract him.

Instead, he is greeted with a box simply labeled _Harry & Louis_ in permanent marker.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this is a move he can’t take back.

But his name is on it. So he has the right to it. Right?

He takes down the box carefully, taking it over and placing it on the ottoman as he sits down on the couch. When he opens it, the first thing he sees on the top is a note.

_I know it might not feel like it now, but you’ll want these things someday. To remember your first love.  
xoxo, Mum_

Harry feels like he can barely breathe as he carefully places the note to the side and sees everything inside. Menus from restaurants they snuck off to for dates. A couple of his old T-shirts he never remembered losing. Love notes he wrote when he thought no one was looking.

And at the bottom: a picture frame with a photo of him and Louis kissing at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He remembers whispering to Niall to take the picture and then running up to Louis, kissing him in public before he could object. Louis had smiled, pushed him away lightly, but then grabbed his hand and held it tight.

He stares at the picture in his hand and with the other, dials a number he hasn’t in a while. But unlike the other night, the boy on the other end is happy and receptive.

“Well well well it’s Harold! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to check in,” he says casually, trying to keep things light.

“Mate, I’ll always love ya, but you and I don’t check in,” Niall responds, “What’s actually going on?”

Harry groans, wiping his face with his free hand, “You weren’t supposed to see through that so quickly.”

“I’m very intuitive,” Niall boasts, “so if I’d have to guess, I’d say this has to do with Lou?”

“I found a picture that someone once took for us on top of the Eiffel Tower,” he says with a smile.

“Must’ve been a hell of a handsome photographer, eh?”

“He certainly had an eye for something special.”

“Well, he would’ve had to have been blind to miss that.”

“Do you think it’s still there?” Harry asks abruptly, bracing himself for the possibility that he might not get the answer he wants.

“Why are you asking me this now? It’s been a long time since...”

“He, um, asked me to help him take care of some stuff. He said he wants to move on, that a lot of things are holding him back,” Harry pauses to overcome the lump in his throat, “Niall, he said one of those things was me. Do you really think that’s true?”

Niall sighs like he’s really contemplating his answer, “H, I think it’s fair to say everything post-hiatus, if that’s what we’re still calling it, has come pretty easily to you. Not to say you haven’t worked hard, but people have been generally receptive to what you have to offer, putting it mildly.”

Harry hums in agreement as Niall continues to talk, and starts to put away most of the contents of the box, everything except the picture frame.

“Unfortunately, it hasn’t always been that way for Tommo, and he loves music with his whole heart. Can you think of anything else he’s ever loved with his whole heart?”

As he shoves the box back in the closet and shuts the door, Harry rests his head against the wall next to it, just listening and thinking. He knows Niall’s question is rhetorical as he keeps talking.

“It’s been hard for him, Harry. Just be patient.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“Did he tell you it was too late?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers readily and then realizes that doesn’t tell the whole story, “well no, he said he still wanted me so…”

Niall laughs, “So decidedly not too late.”

Harry falls back on the couch, the picture frame resting upside down on his chest under his fingertips.

“So wherever you are, I’m assuming the two of you are alone?”

“We are.”

“Well then, he’s probably just overwhelmed. I know you, Harry, and I know you’re probably layin’ it on pretty thick with the trips down memory lane. Maybe just relax and just let things be. It’s been a long time since it was just the two of you together.”

Harry nods, staring at the ceiling, “You’re right. Thanks, Niall.”

“Hey anytime, I’m rooting for you crazy kids.”

Harry laughs and the two of them exchange goodbyes. He sets his phone down and hugs the picture frame to his chest. And then, he rests.  
…

Harry isn’t sure what time Louis comes back, but it’s dark when his eyes pop open at the sound of the key in the lock. He takes the picture frame and shoves it in one of his pillowcases, just in time to see Louis coming through the front door, his hands filled with bags.

He pops up and rushes over to take some from him, “Here, let me help you with those.”

Louis mumbles his thanks quietly as the two of them make their way into the kitchen, working silently and not making contact. Harry is trying to listen to Niall’s advice, but he doesn’t want it to be awkward.

“How did you get all of this without being seen?” he says casually.

Louis smiles, slightly out of pity, like he knows what Harry is doing, “Pretty small town. I think the newest music they listen to is from the 70s.”

“My kind of town,” Harry responds, smiling genuinely.

They finish quickly and Louis sighs, pushing the hair back from his face.

“So it’s been a really long day, I think I’m just going to head up and get some sleep, if that’s okay.”

Harry wants to beg _no, stay, talk to me_ , but again he hears Niall’s voice.

_Just be patient._

He nods, “Of course. I had a pretty big unexpected nap earlier so I’ll probably just stay up for a little while and do some reading. Will the light bother you?”

Louis looks relieved, like he was worried Harry was going to force them to talk about what happened. But now that he hasn’t, he just feels grateful. And exhausted.

“Nah, all good,” he says casually, “Night then.”

“Good night,” Harry says with a warm genuine smile. He stays in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as he watches Louis ascend the stairs to the bedroom. There is so much he wants to say and do, but for now, he waits.  
...

A few hours pass and Harry is lying on the couch, earbuds in, idly flipping through a book he found while they were cleaning when he hears it.

It’s a tossing noise, like someone might be rummaging through their trash, combined with the occasional whimper and Harry worries that there’s a raccoon or other various woodland creature outside that is hurt. But it’s pitch black outside and he can’t go out there alone, unsure if anyone knows they’re here or not.

Luckily, he realizes he doesn’t have to.

Unluckily, it’s because the noise is coming from upstairs.

He quietly creeps toward the staircase, taking the stairs slowly so as not to wake Louis, but when he gets to the top, it dawns on him that nothing would have woken him.

Louis is thrashing in his sleep, pulling at the sheets and then pushing them away. He’s mumbling something that Harry can’t quite make out, but the moonlight shining through the window makes one thing very clear.

Louis is crying.

His cheeks are moist and puffy and each deep intake of breath he takes makes Harry want to shake him, just to wake him up from the nightmare. But he knows that’s one of the worst things he could possibly do.

But maybe he can soothe the terrors away and Louis won’t even have to be awake.

Harry sneaks over to the bed carefully, sinking his knees into the mattress and skillfully avoiding the other boy’s outbursts with his arms and legs. When Louis has his back turned to him, Harry sees his opening and takes it.

He lies down on the bed, scooting closer until he can wrap his arms around Louis’ middle. Louis stills somewhat, but doesn’t awaken. He’s still out of breath, the boy trapped in his dreams trying to explain what’s going wrong. Harry leans down to whisper in his ear, “Shh, you’re all right, everything’s fine.”

This calms Louis somewhat, he has stopped thrashing around, but he’s still sniffling. So Harry does the only thing he can think to do.

He sings.

_Hey there, Delilah_  
What's it like in New York city?  
I'm a thousand miles away  
But, girl, tonight you look so pretty  
Yes, you do  
Times Square can't shine as bright as you  
I swear, it's true 

He knows his breath is hot against the shell of Louis’ ear, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t react that way. Instead, Louis is scooting back to get more of Harry’s chest pressed against his back, Harry’s legs tangled up with his.

And then, he stops. And he is quiet.

Harry knows he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation. Louis doesn’t really even know what’s going on.

But he can’t help himself, Louis’ scent intoxicating the air all around them.

He drops a small kiss to the back of Louis’ neck and holds tight like he doesn’t ever plan on letting go.

And he doesn’t, at least not for the rest of the night.  
...

When Louis wakes up, he knows he was dreaming again, knows he should’ve told Harry this has been happening since Fizzy’s been gone, but he didn’t want to scare him. But usually the dreams leave him sleepless, feeling like a zombie. Something had to have happened, he actually feels rested.

And then he's pretty sure he remembers Harry holding him as he cried and panicked and thrashed. Harry whispering comforting words in his ear, singing to him, soothing him.

Then again, maybe that was all a dream too.

And he would swear it was if he wasn’t smelling bacon frying in the kitchen below him, if he couldn't hear Harry’s low voice singing along with the Fleetwood Mac song on the radio.

He folds back the covers, quietly sneaking down the stairs, hoping not to disturb Harry from his routine. When he gets to the kitchen, he can’t stop himself from staring. Harry’s hair is freshly wet from the shower and he’s humming, darting from burner to burner to the oven to the toaster. It’s frantic, but calculated.

“Sounds like you found a radio station you like,” Louis says as a way of announcing his presence and Harry jumps slightly.

He chuckles quietly, reaching over to turn down the music, “Yeah I guess so. Breakfast?”

He motions at the pancakes, bacon, and hash browns that he has laid out on the kitchen island. At the edge closest to him is a plate with avocado toast and some fruit and Louis walks over to it, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I’ll just have this, thanks,” he says, reaching for the plate and not taking his eyes off Harry is who smirking back. They both know the plate was for Harry, the healthiest option in a sea of bread and grease.

Louis takes one bite, and chews slowly. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off him, raising his eyebrow and waiting.

It’s exactly 3 seconds and 2 chews before Louis is spitting the toast into the trash can next to them.

“Fucking disgusting,” he says, and Harry laughs, “I can’t believe you actually eat that.”

“Yes, well,” he says with a shrug before pushing a mug toward Louis, “drink your tea.”

“Thanks Mum,” he mumbles under his breath and they both freeze and look at each other. Harry looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and disappear. He hastily spits out, “I’m sorry, I...” before Louis places his hand on his arm and he stops again.

“It’s a compliment,” Louis says with a warm smile.

“The highest,” Harry says with a nod.

“Well tied with Anne of course,” Louis responds, taking a quick sip of his tea and there’s that smirk again growing on Harry’s face.

“I think she’d be very pleased with that ranking.”

They smile tentatively at each other, each sitting on the side of a corner of the island, eating quietly.

The elephant in the room isn’t threatening to smother them, but it is sitting quietly and both of them can see it. And it won’t go away until they acknowledge it.

“So, um, I want to apologize...” Louis says, pushing a blueberry around his plate hesitantly.

He’s worried Harry is going to make it weird, is going to try to get him to dredge up all these feelings he’s just not ready to talk about again.

“For what?”

When Louis looks up, he almost bursts out laughing. Harry’s cheeks are puffed out, his mouth stuffed with bread and avocado.

Suddenly, they’re kids again, and Harry is doing anything to make Louis laugh.

And it’s working. Louis can feel himself blushing as he smiles, “How can you still do that after all this time?”

_Still._ It’s the first time Louis has really acknowledged the past and not sounded totally panicked.

Harry has finished his breakfast as he pops a strawberry in his mouth and shrugs, “Some things you just don’t forget.”

“Well if you’re not going to let me apologize, can I at least thank you?”

“You can, but you don’t have to.”

Louis groans dramatically, “Have you always been this much of a pain?”

Harry smiles again, that boy Louis met in the loo all those years ago and just replies, “Yep.”

Louis laughs and then things are quiet again. Until Harry clears his throat and Louis watches him as he speaks.

“So I was thinking maybe we could just have some fun today. I know you said you were on kind of a time crunch, but we did a lot yesterday and this place isn’t that big and…”

“That sounds great.”

Louis interrupts and Harry looks up at him shocked. He thought for sure he would have to sell it a lot more than that. But Louis seems interested, relieved, a slew of positive emotions, and Harry will take it.

“Cool,” he says with a smile, “Want to show me around outside?”  
…

The area around the cabin would most likely feel like a horror film at night, but in the daylight, it’s stunning.

They spend the first part of the day doing a little work, straightening up the deck and building a new stand for the outdoor umbrella. They work quietly, sometimes going minutes without talking, but the silence is comfortable, not stilted.

Louis makes paninis for lunch and Harry hums satisfactorily around his, acting like it’s a 4 course dinner. They make lemonade to go with the sandwiches, and listen to old music on the radio, occasionally singing along, smiling when they harmonize.

They spend the afternoon reading and when it looks like the sun is starting to go down, Louis says, “Hey, let’s take a walk.” And Harry follows like a lovestruck puppy.

They walk through the woods, Louis following a path that he forged on his own, careful to point out to Harry places where he might trip or lose his footing.

And then they get there, and Harry is breathless.

The area is a small overhang, looking down on a river and more trees, but the trees are shorter here and they can see out to the sunset. Louis looks down, the part of land they’re standing on is pretty far above the river and part of his mind can’t help but wonder about falling, falling, falling.

But then he looks back up at the sunset, a real life oil painting of reds and oranges and yellows and he says quietly, “Beautiful, don’t you think?”

He knows he said he would be patient, but the day has emboldened Harry. His fingers scratch at Louis’ palm, tentatively at first, before linking their fingers to hold his hand.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, and when Louis looks over, Harry’s gaze is fully fixated on him. He gets that feeling again in the pit of his stomach, the feeling that he knows he’ll get hurt if he falls for Harry.

The feeling that he’s been hurting _because_ he fell for Harry in the first place.

And yet, he just can’t help himself, not with Harry looking at him like that, like he’s been looking at him since they came out here.

Like he’s been looking at Louis the whole time they’ve known each other.

When Louis turns, he reaches around Harry’s waist and gently pulls him closer. Their lips _finally_ press together gently, and as they move, Harry can feel Louis’ muscles relaxing beneath his grip. 

When they break apart, Harry can feel the shaky sigh escaping from Louis’ lips. His eyes are still closed, which gives Harry the opportunity to study his long lashes, the small blush creeping on to his cheeks.

“You’re a goddamn dream, Hazza.”

Harry feels the explosion in his heart thinks this might be like what it feels like to die. The pain is overwhelming, but gloriously so, and now that they’ve started kissing, he doesn’t ever want to stop. He pulls Louis forward again, the two of them quietly making out, teetering on the edge of the cliff in more ways than one, until it’s Louis who pulls away again.

“Take me inside, please,” he begs, the words rushing out like he wants to say them before he changes his mind.

To his credit, Harry doesn’t hesitate. He holds Louis’ hand, firmer, and guides them back toward the cabin. Louis feels like they’re about to break into a run until finally he can see it and Harry slides open the door leading inside so hard Louis thinks it might be broken.

The second the door is shut behind them, Harry presses him into the wall next to it, his leg immediately going between Louis’ thighs and making him groan. Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck, moving one hand up to run through his hair, lips not parting for a second.

That is, until Harry picks him up, and Louis feels his legs wrapping around Harry’s waist.

“Fuck, you got stronger since the last time we did this.”

Harry hums, kissing into Louis neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough so he can taste the sweat on Louis’ skin, building from the heat of the moment and from the weather outside. Louis throws his head back against the wall, releasing a small moan every now and then, just soaking in the feeling of having Harry’s lips on his skin again. He reaches down, pulling off his shirt so Harry can get closer.

Harry stops what he’s doing for a moment, moves his mouth to behind Louis’ ear, positioned so Louis can hear the question he’s asking, but so that he can’t see Louis’ face if he decides to say no.

“Can I take you upstairs?”

Louis pulls Harry’s face out of the crook of his neck so that they can link eyes.

“If we can make it that far.”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters, kissing Louis one last time before letting him down. The last thing either of them needs is for them to trip up the stairs or god forbid, for him to drop Louis. That would certainly kill the mood, and they’re thriving on momentum.

In the end, they end up stumbling up the stairs anyway, not able to keep their hands off each other for more than a few seconds. When they get up to the bed, Harry takes the opportunity to lightly push Louis down on to it, taking off his own shirt as Louis looks on, mesmerized.

Louis is wearing trackpants so those are easy enough to slide off. Harry looms over him on the bed, hooking a finger on each hand on his pants and pulling everything down. Harry remembers their first time, fumbling and unsure, not sure who should do what or who should go where.

There is no hesitation in him now.

He bends down to kiss up Louis’ torso, moving from his stomach to his chest and back up his neck before ghosting his lips over the shell of his ear.

“Tonight, be who you want, take what you want from me,” Harry murmurs low.

“And what do you want?” Louis breathes shallowly, forcing himself to meet Harry’s intense gaze.

But Harry’s answer is simple.

“You.”

Louis reaches up to pull Harry down to kiss him again. While he uses his tongue to get inside Harry’s mouth, he slides his hand down his torso, popping open the button on Harry’s jeans and sliding inside to wrap around Harry’s cock, just for a moment, just to get close.

Harry groans, ripping his mouth away from Louis’ and breathing heavily.

“Jesus, fuck,” he breathes out, barely able to find the words he wants to say, “I never thought I’d get to have you like this again.”

Louis reaches up gently, petting the space behind Harry’s ear and looking deep into his eyes. It’s a look of want, apology, fear and uncertainty all rolled into one. He moves his hand down and presses softly, pushing Harry over so that his back is now against the bed, and Louis is looming over him.

He gets up for just a moment, finishing pulling down Harry’s zipper and discarding his jeans and briefs. Harry is lying completely naked in front of him, eyes hooded and chest practically heaving with how hard he’s breathing. And suddenly he knows what he wants.

“I want to ride you. Please, please let me.”

Harry bites his lip so hard he’s terrified he might draw blood, nodding furiously. Louis can’t imagine possibly leaving this situation, but he knows they can’t move any further if he doesn’t. He walks into the bathroom right next to the bed, grabbing lube and a condom from one of the drawers.

He rushes back out to the bedroom where Harry is waiting, his head resting against the pillows, just watching, committing these moments to memory. Louis lightly tosses the supplies from the bathroom so that they land on Harry’s stomach, and then slowly reaches behind himself to start working himself open. It feels good, knowing he’s doing this for Harry when he hears the other boy speak.

“Lou,” Harry rasps out, “C’mere.”

He doesn’t want to stop, but in that moment, he wants to do anything Harry asks more. He moves over to the bed, straddling Harry’s stomach. Harry sits up slightly, his hand warm on the side of Louis’ face.

“I want to do this together.”

Louis nods roughly; the moment has gotten intimate and it scares him.

_Less thinking, more touching_ , he thinks to himself.

He grabs the condom first, holding it out to Harry, who rips the foil packet open with his teeth. He rolls it on, slowly, and then reaches for the lube, squeezing a decent amount into his hand. The second he touches Harry, they both feel the electricity. Harry gasps as Louis strokes, first slow and then picking up the pace.

“Okay, okay,” Harry breathes out, “let me.”

He rubs the side of Louis’ leg, running his hand over the cleft of his ass before finding his entrance. He presses inside with one finger, and instantly Louis keens, his back arching. Harry wants to wait, wants to make Louis as comfortable as possible, but he feels so good that he can’t help it when he adds a second digit.

Luckily for him, if Louis’ moans are anything to go by, he doesn’t mind at all.

“Harry, please, I’m ready,” he begs and Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He nods and Louis hovers over his cock before slowly sinking down. His head instantly snaps back and he groans, both at the new sensation and at the feeling of the sensation being Harry inside him.

Harry has his hands on Louis’ hips, steadying him as the movement goes from slow and controlled to faster, his back arching to fuck into Louis as hard as he can.

It feels so good, better than anything he can ever remember, although he knows he had to have felt like this once.

But then again, maybe not. He had never felt like he was going to lose Louis until he did. Tonight it feels like they stole a getaway car and all of this could be over at any moment.

He tries to slow it down, to make the moment last, but Louis’ body moving up and down his cock feels too fucking heavenly. So he reaches up to where Louis’ cock is resting on his stomach, red and swollen, and the second he touches him, Louis lets out a small cry.

“Just like that, don’t stop,” Louis encourages Harry’s strokes, and Harry’s not too far gone to remember what Louis likes, what drives him crazy. He moves his fist slowly up and down and he can hear Louis breathing impatiently. He wants more, but Harry wants this to last forever.

“Harry…” Louis says shakily. He feels stimulated all over and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. He sinks down onto Harry once, twice and then it can’t take it anymore and he’s coming in hot, fast streaks across Harry’s chest. The sight of Louis losing all control is too much for Harry and he comes soon after, his eyes squeezing shut as his orgasm hits.

The second Louis moves off of him, he feels cold, empty, but he’s back from the bathroom quickly, wiping off Harry’s chest and discarding the condom, kissing him deep and slow, their tongues moving lazily as Louis gets back in bed.

Neither of them have much to say, and they also have everything to say, so they just decide to be quiet, Harry curling his arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulling him over so that he is flush against Harry’s side. They both exhale, slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the other. Harry feels like he’s falling asleep first, his eyes feeling too heavy to possibly keep open, and the last thing he processes before he falls asleep is Louis dropping a soft kiss into the curve of his neck.  
...

It’s pitch black when something wakes Harry up. There is a little light coming in from the stars, but nothing too bothersome. The cabin is quiet, except for the smallest noise right by his ear.

Louis is mumbling in his sleep, and Harry can’t make out much of anything he’s saying, until he hears him begging, his voice just above a whisper.

“Can’t we just stay here forever?”

Harry feels his heart break because he can’t tell if Louis is asking in his dreams, or asking for real, but either way, he knows the answer is no. He knows they’ll have to go back to reality, and he doesn’t know what will happen when they do.

But for now, he answers quickly, “Yes, yes of course”. Louis seems to be agreeable to this as his muttering stops and the room is quiet again.

And for right now, that’s going to have to be enough.  
…

When he wakes again, Harry feels cold. He reaches blindly for the covers, not wanting to open his eyes quite yet, when he realizes the reason for the temperature change.

Louis isn’t there.

He gets up, pulling on his briefs and walking downstairs where he sees Louis, fully dressed and stacking boxes in two places: on the kitchen island and near the front door.

“Hi,” Harry says quietly, a small contented smile resting on his lips, “what are you doing?”

The first thing Harry notices is that Louis is refusing to look at him.

“Um, just getting some final stuff together before we head out. The realtor said I could just leave any big trash I didn’t want on the kitchen island and she’d take care of it. And anything I wanted to keep I just put by the front door to put in the car.”

He comes closer, but still not close enough for Harry to pull him closer, kiss him, hold him, anything like that. Harry isn’t usually one to be embarrassed about the things he wears (or doesn’t wear), but it is clear now that he is embarrassingly naked.

He looks up to see Louis extending a few T-shirts toward him, “Here, I thought you might want to put one of these on. Sorry we haven’t really done any laundry.”

When Harry looks down, he sees them: his shirts that were inside the box marked _Harry & Louis_. And the next thing he sees when he pivots his gaze is the box itself.

Sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Louis,” he says carefully, “what is going on?”

“I told you,” he says, matter-of-factly, “gotta head out soon.”

Harry takes one of the shirts quickly, putting it on as he rummages in the living room for the sweatpants Louis gave him. It’s not the classiest of looks, but it’s going to have to do for now.

“I don’t understand, last night…”

“Last night should’ve never happened,” Louis says quietly, eyes still downcast.

“Jesus, Lou, fucking look at me!”

Harry normally doesn't yell, rarely gets angry enough to, but he is so confused, so vulnerable, so scared. It works, though, Louis looks up not a second later as Harry continues.

“You do realize there’s a fucking chasm between your words and your actions, right?”

“Harry, I told you, I need to leave all this toxic shit behind.”

“I’m sorry, you just really need to make up your mind as to whether you love me or you hate me because you slept with me and then decided I was toxic shit so fast it makes my head spin. You don’t talk to me for years and then I come here and find out my birthday is the goddamn code to your safe house security system! What am I supposed to do with all of this?”

Harry can feel the hot tears burning at his eyes, and this feels like a conversation they once had, just like this, years ago.

And he knows how this will end.

“If there’s anything you want to take with you, you’re more than welcome,” Louis says quietly, looking away again, “I’ll be in the car.”

He grabs a few boxes from near the door and then he is gone. Harry feels like a zombie, going upstairs to gather his clothes from the previous day, coming down the stairs and looking inside the mostly empty _Harry & Louis_ box, still containing the old menus and a few random receipts.

And then he remembers.

The picture frame is still in the pillowcase on the couch where he left it, and as he looks at the picture inside, he starts to cry. But he wants this memory, he wants it to be a part of him, painful or not.

So he puts it in the box and closes it up. And when he gets to the car where Louis is waiting, he puts the box in the backseat and climbs back into the front seat, where he pulls out his earbuds and tunes out the whole world.

The boy in the driver’s seat included.  
…

It’s early afternoon when he wakes, something shaking his arm lightly, and for a moment, Harry has no clue where he is. Part of him thinks he’s still in bed, almost reaching to pull at the covers when he remembers.

“Harry. We’re here,” Louis says demurely, and Harry looks up and sees his home. He’s surprised Louis remembered his address; he always assumed all the party invites and birthday cards went straight to the bin.

“Thanks,” he says roughly, his voice thick with sleep and sadness. He gets out of the car, opening the backseat to grab the box. He shuts the door and for a moment, he’s not sure what to do. He can’t get back in the car, but he doesn’t want to just walk away.

But it seems he’s the only one who feels that way as the passenger window rolls down and Louis looks at him, eyes sad but resolute.

“Goodbye, Hazza.”

“Bye, Tommo,” he practically whispers. Then he turns around and heads up the path, and Louis is gone.

When he gets inside, Harry tosses the box on the floor, frustrated, angry, pining, and it topples over, spilling out only one thing.

The picture frame clatters out onto the floor, and Harry bends down to pick it up, falling into a sitting position on the floor, his back resting against the sofa, when he sees the front has cracked.

And that’s when it hits him.

It’s really over.  
...

He doesn’t know how many days he spends in the house, but he finds that he doesn’t much care.

He does all the things he’s normally too busy to do: mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, binge watches series after series on Netflix and eats all the junk food he can find.

One night, Nick Grimshaw calls as he’s halfway through his second pizza of the day.

“Come on, let’s go out, get your mind off of things.”

“Nah,” he says noncommittally, half paying attention to the conversation, half paying attention to the TV, not really registering anything.

“No one wants to see a fat Harry Styles,” Nick nudges teasingly.

“No one wants me anyway, so what does it matter?” Harry knows he’s being petulant, but he thinks he should be allowed, he did just have his heart broken after all.

“All right, sulker, you just keep wallowing in self pity. But may I remind you, I always told you you were too good for him.”

“Goodbye Nick,” Harry says pointedly. He doesn’t need people telling him things he already knows.  
…

The next day, he gets a visit from Gemma, who pulls down her sunglasses as he opens the door and looks unimpressed, to say the least.

“Jesus,” she mumbles, walking inside and Harry shrugs.

“Yes, please, come in,” he says sarcastically, and she glares at him.

“Shut up, you little shit, I came to make sure you were still alive,” she responds, planning on sitting down on the couch when her eyes fall on the box, still sitting on the floor on its side. Next to it is the broken picture frame that Harry couldn’t bear to do anything with.

“Oh Haz,” she says sympathetically, her eyes turning soft. She looks at him and his eyes are almost watering too. She leans over and picks up the picture frame, smiling fondly.

“I wish you two could’ve stayed in this moment forever.”

He sniffles, coming to sit next to his sister and rest his head on her shoulder.

“Me too, Gems.”

They sit like that for a moment, silently reminiscing on what was and what could have been. She puts her arm around him and shakes him, just a little.

“Hey. What do you say we go get some real food and we clean up this place and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you be the most famous Styles for a while.”

He chuckles at her joke, and for the first time in a while, feels a little bit uplifted. He wipes at his eyes and nods, “Yeah, that sounds great. Can I borrow some of your fancy sunglasses to go out in public?”

She helps him up from the couch, grabbing her purse, “Oh dear brother, I thought you’d never ask.”  
...

He feels better once the apartment is clean and everything is put back in its place.

Well, mostly everything.

But he’s healing, working out, eating right, and he’s just finishing watching something on TV when he hears his phone go off, signaling a text.

He reaches over to grab his phone and sees the message is from Nick.

_**Seeing as you’ve been moody as lately, this ought to cheer you up.** _

The message is followed by a screenshot of Twitter’s trending page. And at the very top is a picture of Louis, with the caption:

_**Singer Louis Tomlinson comes out as gay: “I’m tired of letting fear control my life.”** _

At first, Harry has to stop his own heart from racing. When he and Louis first broke up, Nick would send him screenshots just like this one, usually with headlines like:

_**Louis Tomlinson: “I’m a huge prat.”** _

_**Louis Tomlinson named Losieriest Loser in the History of Losers by Loser Magazine** _

Although that one was quickly followed by:

_**Wait, would that one technically be prestigious?** _

He quickly opens Twitter on his own phone, wanting to make sure this isn’t another prank before he gets his hopes up (even though it’s already too late for that). Sure enough, the same headline is staring at him from the top of the page, followed by something about Miley Cyrus at #2 and Brexit at #3.

He quickly texts Grimmy back.

_**Oh my God.** _

He sees the bubbles signaling Nick’s response popping up, and he is waiting anxiously when suddenly, there’s a knock at his door. The noise startles him so much that he drops his phone on the floor, and upon checking to make sure it isn't broken, he heads to the front door.

Where Louis is standing, hands in his pockets like he’s nervous, but looking straight at Harry.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi. I, um…” Harry responds, holding up his phone, which is still displaying the Twitter trending topics.

“I wanted you to know I’m not ashamed of this, of us,” Louis explains, “I’m sorry that I made you feel like everything is easy for you, I know it’s not. Everyone always told me this would ruin me, and I guess I believed them.”

Harry nods, he can tell Louis has more to say and he’s dying to hear it.

“And those few days we spent together, I tried to fight it. I told myself I’d never fully gotten you out of my system since everything just kind of faded away. So I thought I could just draw a line in the sand and say this is it, this is where we’re over. But you know the problem with drawing a line in the sand, H?”

Harry shakes his head and Louis continues, “Those lines can wash away. I can shut you out of my life, but I can’t…fuck, this is so cheesy.”

“Say it anyway,” Harry says, a smile staring to quirk up the sides of his mouth.

“I can’t shut you out of my heart,” Louis spills out before he can stop it, “I’ve tried and it hurts more than anything. I don’t want to do it anymore. Please say you don’t want me to either.”

“I’ve never wanted anything less,” Harry responds breathlessly.

“So I thought maybe I wouldn’t sell the house. Maybe it could be a place for umm, a dog and maybe kids, but definitely...a boyfriend. If you’d be interested.”

Before he can wait for Harry’s answer, Louis leans forward, kissing him quickly before either of them can overthink it. Harry meets him as fast as he can, not wanting to wait a second longer. He releases a small “oomf” when they kiss, quickly pulling Louis inside to make sure no one lurking around sees them. He feels like it’s been a lifetime since they did this, but it feels as familiar as if it was yesterday (which is more like it anyway).

Once they’re inside, he pulls Louis toward the sofa, lips never parting. That is, until Louis kicks the box over and the contents spill out onto the floor. Harry is clinging to Louis’ side when he looks back at the mess. But when he turns back to the other boy, Louis is smirking.

“Dunno why you kept those rubbish old menus, I took the important stuff out.”

Harry looks down at the mess on the floor and realizes the menus and receipts are still there, but the love notes, the ones he wrote to Louis to tell them they would be together forever and that he wouldn’t let anything or anyone come in between them, those are gone.

“You took the notes?”

“Course,” Louis says with a smile like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry surges forward to kiss him again. The kisses are frantic, intense, like they’re making up for lost time. When they pause to breathe, Louis murmurs, “Can you take me upstairs?”

Harry feels like his face might split in half from the grin that’s breaking out on it.

“If we can make it that far.”

“I think we can make it anywhere,” Louis says, and for the first time in a long time, they both believe it.


End file.
